Stubborn
by AllTimeNatalie
Summary: He didn't cry. He refused to cry. He was stubborn like that. Then, the one time he did cry, she wasn't there. Arra/Larten


DISCLAIMER: Don't own CDF, never will. :'(

SUMMARY: He didn't cry. He refused to cry. He was stubborn like that. Then, the one time he did cry, she wasn't there. Arra/Larten

TITLE: Stubborn

Curled up in his coffin, he sighs and pulls up a book in one last attempt to make out the words that are embedded on the paper. He had never been interested in books or reading until she'd passed on and he'd lost all reason. It's hopeless; he can't read the words that are rooted into the paper in his palm. He won't give up, he's stubborn like that.

He rolls over and closes his glisteningly wet eyes. It's not the same, not now. She's gone and he can't bring her back. He wants to resent her for leaving him but he loves her too much to hate her. He finds it difficult to breathe but short, dry snaps of air seem to writhe their way into his windpipe. He hasn't moved from his room to the outside world. He's thin, too thin. He's cried, he's lost grip, and he's fallen.

"_Larten, what are you doing?" Arra asked and ambled inside the half-dark room to sit next to her mate. _

"_Umm, I am trying to read." He had expected her to laugh but surprisingly, she took the book off him and scanned her deep, brown eyes over the page. _

"_This is a good book, I like this one. You can't read?" Wordlessly, Crepsley shook his head. "I am proud of you for trying." She replied with a wide grin and placed a kiss on his forehead before retreating the small room and dropping the book on to the floor. _

He hasn't picked up that book since. He has been attempting to improve his literacy skills with a different book. That book is still on the floor in the exact same place she'd dropped it. However, he won't be the first one to move that book, he just won't. It hurts too much because every time he looks at it, he is reminded of that vampire with dark brown hair tied in a neat ponytail behind her, a wooden staff in her hand and a challenging look on her face.

Pulling the torch off the wall, Larten runs his hand over it and back again, he doesn't feel any pain. Darren is stood in the doorway, trying to tear his eyes away from the broken man who was once his mentor but now is a mere fading character.

"Mr Crepsley, put that down." Darren mutters encouragingly and edges towards his mentor and friend.

"I refuse. I like the feeling of pain and hurt, it much reminds me of her and what she went through." He replies and sighs, blinking tears back into his eyes. Darren walks ever closer and places a hand over his, pulling it down from his other hand and taking the torch away from him. "I apologise Master Shan. I fear I am not feeling my best, I wish to be alone if you do not mind." Darren nods and leaves him, replacing the torch in its original spot. Once more he finds himself in an uncomfortable silence.

The flame looks so tempting, like if he does it, it'll all be over with. No more pain or loneliness, he can be with her again. No. It's the worse thing a vampire can do, take his own life. Yes. It's unbearable being plagued by nightmares of her every day when he can end it.

_Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, __**DO IT**__! _

He takes the torch off the wall and almost drops it on the floor where some hay is strewn, it'll easily catch fire, but something stops him. It's Vancha. He pulls the torch away from him and shakes his head.

"I know how you feel Larten but you mustn't live in the past. We must look to the future; it is what she would want." Vancha's voice is low and quiet, bordering on a whisper so Larten nods and releases the torch once more from his grip.

"_Larten, my time has come. You must not mourn for me; I do not want that for you. I love you." And she faded away, her soul drifting away to a further place. Larten placed his hand over hers and squeezed it tightly. She was gone. _

He hears the same things every day, her sweet voice muttering about some random vampire who she had beaten on the bars, recollections of poetry she likes, she's always there inscribed upon his mind. One day, he wishes that he'll wake up and see her sat at the end of his coffin with a wide grin across her perfect face but he knows… that's just a fantasy. Why is he troubled at separating the real from the surreal? Why him?

A lone tear slides down his cheek and he finds himself curled up again in his coffin, the cloth damp from his crying. _"If I could go back…"_but he can't go back. It's too late and now he's lost within a life where he's lost the woman that gave him reason to go to sleep in the morning and wake up in the evening. This time though, the one time he cries, she isn't there to wipe away the tears that pour from his radiant eyes.

He won't give up though, holding those tears back, he's stubborn like that.

**A/N: Sorry for the rubbishy rambles of a thirteen year old with too much time on her hands. :D Reviews always welcome though! :D **


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